


Kiss Me

by Lady_Redhaired



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Redhaired/pseuds/Lady_Redhaired





	Kiss Me

You met Samuel Drake about six months ago at a club.

And you were definitely not at your highest point back then. Sitting by your lonesome at the bar, your eyes were locked on the bottom of the empty glass held between your hands, and your mind was all over the place.

You had been crying. A lot. Your eyes red and puffy, and both sides of your face shielded by your hair, which you never bothered to tuck behind your ear in an attempt to let the world around you know not to approach you now.

But Samuel Drake did not seem to care, because he’d strolled his way to the bar just as well, and he’d sat down right next to you. The man had ordered two drinks, one for you and the second for himself, and hadn’t said a word for a while. You immediately noticed this was not your day a day situation in which some random guy that wants to take you to his apartment buys you a drink in the hopes that you will pop his cork.

No, he was making no moves on you. He wasn’t leaning towards you, his hands were kept at a distance from your body, and he did nothing but to glance every once in a while, a kind smile gracing his lips.

So eventually you’d thanked him for the drink, and he must’ve taken that as a form of permission because only then did he ask you what was wrong.

And you, for some reason, had decided to tell him. You had no idea why you trusted this guy. This stranger. But you did. And so all of your bottled up problems came out as you explained how your mother was very ill, and you had been fired from your job. You needed money for her, urgently, and so you were worried sick that you wouldn’t find another job in time. 

He’d listened, really listened. Not just sitting there, pretending to hear you out while you’d do nothing but talk to a brick wall. No, he listened. You could see it in his eyes, he really cared.

And so you’d started talking, eventually asking him about himself and you chatted for a good portion of the evening. And by the time you two were leaving the club together, the pressure that had been relentless in your chest for the entirety of the day started to subside slowly.

He was funny, he was witty, and he was kind. You were discovering all this as you two talked more and more while he walked you all the way to your apartment. And once there you’d stood outside your door, a genuine smile on your lips, and you’d thanked him. 

And he was about to turn on his heels to leave when you’d grabbed him on the last second and you’d pulled him in for a kiss. You didn’t know why. You were slightly lightheaded due to the couple of drinks you’d had, but you also had been feeling this growing urge to press your lips together not long after he’d started to show real concern for you. And it seemed like after all those hours of talking to each other, you felt like it was fine to do so.

Everything escalated so quick after that, with both of you stumbling up the stairs in your apartment while you struggled to strip of your clothes and kiss at the same time. You’d spent the night with Samuel Drake and, even with your mind clouded by alcohol, you knew that had been the most amazing night of your life. He’d made you feel things you didn’t know you could feel. And he had taken the pain away.

And the next morning, you’d woken up to find he was not next to you on your bed. And your heart sunk a little. But soon after the note left on your bedside table provided some peace of mind. He’d left for work, but he wished you a lovely morning, and left his phone number written down. He wanted you to call him if you allowed him to go back, and see you again.

You did. And from that day on, you grew inseparable. You spent many days and many nights together. He was your life line, your support, your life jacket while you struggled with so many things. Your love. 

He did so much for you, you barely knew how to repay him. After four months of relationship, he’d showed up on your front door with a bouquet of flowers and a doctor’s notice. He’d paid your mom’s medical treatment. Thousands of dollars. Oh how you cried your eyes in happiness, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him so tight you feared you’d hurt him. You made sure to let him know how very grateful you were that night.

You could see your life starting to brighten up. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, and that light went by the name of Sam Drake.

But life is no fairy tale, and there’s no light at the end of the tunnel. And you discovered this when two weeks after that, a rush of bullets blew up the windows in your apartment, pieces of glass scattered all over the floor and you heard the blood chilling sound of the shots being fired from your bedroom on the second floor.

Sam had sprung up from the bed, face turning white in fear as he hurriedly rummaged around the pockets on his jacket.

“What’s going on?” You asked him, your heart racing inside your chest. You were frozen in fear, just sitting in bed while your eyes looked for his in the darkness.

“We need to go baby. We need to go.” That’s all you got for an answer before he grabbed you by the arm to wake you up from your stupor, and pulled you out of the bed. 

You didn’t understand. You were following him, trusting the man blindly, but you were terrified. Why were people shooting at your front door? Trying to break into your house? Why were you sneaking out the back door in the middle of the night? Why did Sam own _a gun_?

You two had managed to make your way into the shed on your backyard, which was mostly empty except for a few shelves with gardening equipment. Sam had barricaded the main door, and was now pacing inside the place, nerve wrecked. 

And that was enough. Suddenly, as you heard the footsteps of the strangers outside, reloading their guns, you grabbed him by the arm and made him look at you.

“What is going on?” You asked once more, your voice shaking as it left your throat and tears building up in your eyes out of pure anxiety. You were having difficulty breathing.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry…” He whispered, his voice irregular as he placed his hand over your cheek. “I just wanted to help your mother. I’ve pulled things like this before I didn’t think…”

“Things like this?” Your mind was spiraling in turmoil. What had he done?

“I…I stole a relic. And I sold it. I knew I would get enough money for the treatment. I’ve done it before! I thought they wouldn’t…” His voice died somewhere in his throat as he gazed down at you and his eyes caught a glimpse of your horrified expression.

“A thief?…” Your voice was barely a crumbly hint of a sound now. So that’s what he did for a living. He was a relic thief. A treasure hunter. 

“I’m so sorry.” He apologized again, his eyes desperate to find a kernel of forgiveness in yours. “I never wanted to put you in danger, If I’d known-!” 

But Sam never finished his sentence as yet another storm of bullets broke through the wooden walls of the shed and he pushed you to the ground, covering your body with his. 

You gasped in shock, the dust from the ground making its way into your lungs and causing you to cough. Looking up at him, you grabbed the collar of his t-shirt, staring into his eyes.

“That was too close. Are you alright?!” You almost whined. Your terrified voice was greeted by a tender smile from Sam, who gazed at you with loving reassurance. But his smile soon enough faltered, the corners of his mouth trembling for a second as he coughed up a bunch of blood that soon covered his lips and dripped down his chin. You could feel a couple of drops had ended on your collarbones too.

“Sam?…” You whispered as he slowly fell into your arms, a pool of blood quickly forming underneath his body. Your hands held him tight, but they were trembling. Your whole body was shaking, your vision getting blurry either because of the shock, or the tears streaming down your cheeks, you weren’t sure. 

“Sam!” Not knowing what to do, your stare darted from one place to another, fixing on his bullet wounds, the dripping blood, and the light fading quickly from his eyes. You were panicking fast. “What do I do?! Oh my god, what do I do?! Sam, please!” 

“It’s okay baby girl…” His voice was so faint, you could barely hear him over your own sobbing. But the smile had come back to his lips, and his hand returned to your cheek, a thumb brushing gently against your cheek and removing the tears from it. “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay…” He was right. You could overhear the sirens. Some neighbor must’ve heard the gun shots and called the police. They would be on their way right now.

You were going to be fine. But he wasn’t. You needed him to be fine. Oh god you needed him to be fine. At that moment, you didn’t care anymore. You cared not that he was a thief. He was trying to help you. Heavens knew you loved that man more than anything.

“Please…please Sam, tell me what to do. Please, how can I help? Please…” You pleaded and pleaded, praying to anything and anyone to help you. 

“Shhh.” He hushed you weakly, his thumb now brushing against your lips. His hands were getting cold“Kiss me.”

A strangled sound came out of your throat as you realized that there was nothing you could do. He wanted nothing but to kiss you one last time. Just one last time. 

When you closed your eyes, a river of scalding tears streamed down your cheeks and you leaned down to capture his lips. It was warm, and soft, and wet. When your lips met you noticed the metallic taste of blood on your tongue right away and you had to refrain yet another sob. You could feel his breath dying against your mouth, and when you pulled away, his chest wasn’t moving anymore.

Sam’s eyes were closed, and he looked peaceful, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips. And as his hand fell slowly from your cheek, limp, dead…you felt your heart break asunder.

 

By the time the police arrived, stomping their way into the shed, they found nothing but a weeping girl who refused to let go from the man who laid dead in her arms, a trace of blood still shining fresh on her lips.


End file.
